We're Here for Eachother To the Ends of Time
by words entwined
Summary: HHr I present to you, a bittersweet, tender, very dramatic love story...filled with heartbreaks, anger, resentment, lies, and jealousy, but most importantly...the meaning of real love, and what it can do or what it can’t do to those around you.
1. Warmth From the Heart

**Warmth From the Heart **

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_Author's Note_

_I have taken some exact excerpts from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in order to portray the situation of the story and certain scenes. However, the remaining content of the story is not straight from the book._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Characters, settings, ect. all belong to J.K. Rowling.**

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It was cold. Rain plastered outside the window that was feet away from Harry's four-post bed. His shadows were cast on the wall. Long and dreary. Such darkness reflected the fifteen-year-old's wild black hair, his thin developing figure. In annoyance, he quickly pulled away his bed curtains, slipped his bare feet into his slippers, and made his way clandestinely out the boy's chamber and down the narrow spiral of stairs, into the common room landing. It was late— but nonetheless small embers seethed in the fireplace of the cozy scope, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. His surroundings were quite obscure, and Harry strained his eyes forcefully in order to make out the only figure that was in the common room besides him. He noticed the armchair nearest the hearth was occupied with the only Gryffindor who was still stirring besides him. 

A candle the being was holding flickered slightly, giving him a sudden analysis of the figure: she was frail; hunched over wearily in a bathrobe, light in hand. A thick book sat in her lap, opened to a page atop her legs.

This was all unarguably familiar. Harry smiled faintly. "Hey, Hermione."

"Huh? Oh!" Hermione adjusted her light in alarm. Once she recognized Harry standing there she snapped her book shut and pulled the weight off her. "Hi Harry, you're not in bed?"

Harry shook his head, distractedly. He hadn't anticipated Hermione's being here, or had he? Why did he drag himself down to the common room in the middle of the night?

"What about you? You're not sleeping either." He said quickly.

"Oh, well…" Hermione curled up in her seat, and tapped the bindings of the books next to her. "You know me…I'm always up until late, it doesn't affect me so much. I'm just doing some light reading. Especially quiet these hours…it's nothing you could get at the library."

Without thinking Harry sat in the other armchair facing her.

"But, I'm _worried _about you Harry. I really am. This hasn't been the first time you've had trouble sleeping, and you know it. I've heard you come down here alone for many nights. What's wrong?"

"Ron's snoring."

Hermione defied smiling. "Harry…it's not the breakup with Cho, is it?" She said softly.

Harry looked away, deep in to the fire. Its flames blared brightly. "No," he took a deep breath, considering whether he should continue or not. Hermione had pinned him to the subject he wished to dodge most. "Well, not anymore."

"I'm sorry about Cho. I really am. And," Hermione paused shortly. "I really didn't mean to be so harsh on you. That day, I mean. I wasn't trying to act smart either. I shouldn't have mentioned going to the Three Broomsticks before you two went out. I was being selfish, thinking about how your article in the Quibbler could really improve things. If I had known things would turn out like this…."

"Hermione lay off. It's not your fault." Harry found himself saying rather impatiently. "Either way, Cho would have brought the subject of Cedric up, either way…it just wouldn't have worked out." He stopped, waiting to hear Hermione put herself to blame again, waiting for her to say anything.

"You sure you're okay?" She asked in a small voice.

"Yeah," Harry lied. He felt bad, but he didn't want Hermione to worry about him. He just needed to sort his thoughts.

"Harry…" Hermione pleaded.

"I'm fine, alright?" Harry snapped back irritably. Why did Hermione have to bug in all the time? Couldn't she see he was taking this fine? He looked up, only to see a pair of deep brown eyes blinking back tears. He hadn't meant to make her cry.

"I'm okay, really," He sighed. "Trust me, okay? I'll be all right."

Hermione bit her lip and smiled weakly. Harry did too, or at least tried to smile. It took all he had from his heart.

"_Armadius_!" Suddenly the small fire grew twice its original size, spreading warmth and light throughout the common room. It made Harry feel better, as he was freezing in his bed garments.

"So," Hermione looked pleased after issuing her charm. "How's Ron doing in Quidditch?"

"He said it was nightmare. Says Angelina can't shut her mouth at the team." He rolled his eyes.

"It can't be that bad—"

"Yeah, well, you know…chaos." Quidditch was the last thing on Harry's mind, especially since he had been put off the team for good.

Hermione whispered another spell and immediately the stack of books next to her arranged themselves in a custom order.Harry stared. "You really going to read all those tonight?"

"Not all of them, no. Of course not—put I'd be fairly happy if I could get a good bit of reading done. I want to finish _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms. _Professor Marsh isn't distributing them until next week but I want to get a head start—"

Harry smiled again, to himself. Hermione being herself tended to put him at ease.

She had opened up the book to her exact page when she looked up. "You leaving, Harry?"

Harry had slipped towards the staircase to the boys' dorms. "Yeah."

"Good night, then,"

"G'night." Harry replied. When he arrived at the foot of the first set of spiral steps, he swiveled down, and leaned against the railing, looking down towards Hermione by the fire.

"Er, Hermione?"

Hermione turned her head in surprise.

"Thanks…erm, a lot, for talking to me and everything. I've been acting pretty dumb around you and Ron lately, and I just want to say that I'm, er, sorry."

She waved her hand. "We're friends, Harry. It's the least I could do."

Friends. "G'night."

"Good night." Harry said and ran up to the boy's dorm. He say Ron in his bed, his hand dangling aside from his bed limply, and bed sheets tossed to aside. He was snoring audibly. Harry grinned to himself and quickly closed his curtains before going to sleep.

This time, he fell into slumber immediately.

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A/N: If you have gotten this far...why not review and tell me what you think? Reviewing will help me get to know my readers, as well as read others' writings as well. I welcome comments and accept constructive criticism...please...if possible...no profanity of any kind, as it would be disturbing or offending. Thank you.


	2. Grudge

**Grudge**

_Author's Note_

_I have taken some details from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in order to portray the situation of the story as well as certain scenes. However, the remaining content of the story is not straight from the book._

_For Chapter 2 : Hehehe sorry if it is a little long...I got carried away...and decided not to put any sections into the next chapter._

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Characters, settings, ect. all belong to J.K. Rowling.**

In the morning, the lawns of Hogwarts were bright and lush, sparkling from the previous night's rain and the glorious sunshine.

It was breakfast time in the Great Hall. Owls of different colors flew in as students started to fill the dining hall, swooping from the skies to deliver letters and parcels of all sizes. A package of a rather odd shape drifted down to the Gryffindor table, landing briskly by Neville's hot porridge. Immediately Ron and Hermione drew back, afraid of what it was going to be. Neville was recognized for receiving outlandish items.

"From your loving grandmother? What's she sent you this time?" Seamus added, faking interest.

Ron moved in cautiously. "Yeah, Neville. Hope it doesn't kill you." He had added the last part quietly, however Hermione had heard him, and afterward edged him in the ribs with her elbow curtly.

"Open it," Harry said, staring at the brown paper wrapping.

Neville looked at it nervously. It was about the size of a bread roll. Taking in a deep breath, he pulled away the string while it was in front of him. Immediately the neat wrapping curled itself apart, and revealed an appealing ball, with four golden joints sticking out from it. Neville ceased to touch it. "Wh-what is it?" He asked anxiously.

"Doesn't look like it'll bite, pick it up already. That'll set it off."

Parvati and Lavender scurried by him. "Ooh." Lavender said. "Another Remembrall, is it? Better not let Malfoy catch you with that. Remember what happened the first year?" She and Parvati exchanged fretful glances.

Neville gave her a doubtful look. "It isn't a Remembrall because it obviously isn't smoking. There's hardly anything in this glass thing at all."

"Give it here, Longbottom." The entire Gryffindor group turned around. It was Malfoy. Obviously he had overheard their situation. He smirked horribly, and snatched the ball from the table, tossing it casually in the arm with one hand. "What is it you got here, Longbottom, not another pathetic device your granny's gotten you?" He sneered.

"Give it back, Malfoy." Ron said, glaring at him.

"Put it down as once, as prefect—"

"Hermione and her _stupid _mudblood powers," Malfoy turned his attention onto her now, his eyes loathing. "Like I care about anything you have to—"

"If I were you, I'd take a hike, Malfoy," Ron uttered defiantly, defending for her. "…to the dimension of ugly!" The table burst into laughter. Ron continued smugly. "Better stop simpering, Draco. I'm afraid that dirty look may mold on your face forever!"

Malfoy grimaced. "Oh, I'm so scared. I almost forgot, Weasley, you're prefect as well. You must feel just as superior as mudblood is here." He had taken out his wand and was pointing it in front of Ron. "That must qualify you as –"

Crabbe and Goyle had stopped sniggering. Malfoy turned around maliciously, only to see Professor McGonagall coming up from behind to snag Crabbe and Goyle each by an ear, sharply. "I'd advise you to return the Historball to Longbottom, Mr. Malfoy, and put down your wand at once, unless you'd wish me to warn your father and Dumbledore of withdrawing your prefect privileges." She said frigidly, her spectacles mounted seriously on her nose.

With a hideous scowl, Malfoy placed the ball coldly on the table, as Professor McGonagall briskly let go of the boys' ears, which were as red as Malfoy's cheeks as he left grudgingly. The Gryffindors laughed heartily. Neville smiled weakly at the Professor.

However, McGonagall was not half as hearty. "I'd wish to see you after class, Mr. Longbottom. You have transfiguration after breakfast, yes? We will make arrangements with how we will deal with Draco. I _will _unquestionably be telling the Headmaster of this atrociousness. And he was appointed _prefect. _I will see to it that Serverus knows of his students' behaviors as well. _Calling names like mudblood…honesty, I would have expected better…_"

"Excuse me, Professor?" Hermione raised a hand meekly.

"What, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall said edgily.

"If you could explain, what exactly is a Historball?"

"You mean that small contraption? I'd advise Longbottom not to be using it too often, it isn't as trusty as it seems. Quite simply, it informs you of what you have done in the past, for whoever had possession of it last. It's really nonsense, surely none of you have a mind to need it."

"Will it tell me the last thing I ate today, Professor?" Neville asked, staring at the Historball in front of him with interest.

Professor McGonagall looked at him skeptically. "Yes, I suppose it would, although it seems very silly a thing to me." She gave them all a stern glance. "I believe I'll be going, now that Malfoy has been dealt with." With that, she stalked away.

"Historball, huh?" Harry asked, still rather muddled.

"Hey, that thing seems great to me." Ron reached out for it. "McGonagall must be kidding, it ain't rubbish at'all!"

"Seriously, Ron." Hermione gave him a look. "Why would anyone need this to remind them what they last ate, or what they last did? It's quite nonsense."

"Well, Neville forgets lots of things, perhaps this thing could actually help him some." Ron looked at it excitedly, and turned the ball in his hand. "How do you start it?"

"Hand it over," Hermione said with an impatient air, and took it from Ron into her own hand. She retrieved her wand from her robe pocket, and pointed it at one of the golden joints. "This may work," She said, furrowing her eyes. "_Envisify!" _The ball remained unaffected. Hermione took another try. "_Forgify_!"

Suddenly, to her surprise as well as the others, thin wisps of smoke seemed to have seeped into the ball from the outside to form a groggy shape somewhat of clouds inside the ball. It was stirring madly, but suddenly the clouds had calmed, and words appeared by the base of the Historball, in silvery letters: HERMIONE GRANGER.

"Hey, it knew you were holding the Historball!" Neville said excitedly.

Hermione stared at the words carefully. She continued with her wand.

"_Inquirmellius!_" The cloudy shape altered. Hermione stared at it again, before speaking something other than spells, in a clear tone, "What did I eat last?"

Suddenly the wisps of clouds whirled madly in the glass ball, distorting its state prior to Hermione's question. Colors fumed from inside, and a blurry picture appeared. Harry tried as hard as he could, but the image seemed to be moving endlessly, it was making him dizzy.

"Look! That's Hermione, ain't it?" Ron suddenly said.

"Yeah, it is!" replied Neville, without taking his eyes off the Historball.

The picture had changed beyond a shadow of a doubt. It was much clearer, and needed no strained eyes. It was a girl with long bushy hair—Hermione, of course— sitting at the Gryffindor table with a copy of _The Daily Prophet _while eating her scrambled eggs and boiled potatoes with fried tomatoes to the side of her platter. There was a glass of hot cider next to her. It was clearly the scene from only minutes ago, even before Neville had received the Historball.

"Well, Longbottom' ll never forget the password again," Harry heard Parvati mutter under her breath.

"That's amazing." Ron kept shaking his head, a piece of scrambled egg stuck to his bottom lip. "Hey, mind if I take a look?"

Hermione handed it back to him with a disapproving frown. "Be careful, Ron. I rather agree with Professor McGonagall. It isn't very trusty, you know."

Ron, Seamus, and Neville had already gathered at one end of the table, each obsessing over the glass ball with deep interest. In fact, they had begun tugging at it, starting with Neville, who exclaimed, "Hey, you've forgotten it's mine!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and resumed to scanning columns in _The Daily Prophet _while finishing her cider.

Harry, for one, was not too interested in the Historball, as it had made his head spin during Hermione's attempt. Stifling a yawn, he pushed away his food plate, which he had not even touched. Even after a soothing conversation with Hermione, he had only slept a few hours, which was nothing compared to how long he wished to snooze.

His eyes weak, he glanced around the Great Hall absently, letting his mind wander to wear it pleased the last few minutes of breakfast time. The Slytherins had gathered around Malfoy, sympathizing him, and every few seconds darting hideous glares at Harry and his table. He ignored them.

His eyes scanned past the Hufflepuff table, towards the Ravenclaws for no particular reason. The older Ravenclaws were known for being rather cool and casual, always role models as students, and humorous and friendly. Suddenly Harry felt his stomach sinking. It was Cho Chang, she had strode in the Great Hall, and towards her table, being greeted with shrieks from her fellow Ravenclaws.

There was no need for a sorting hat to sort Cho in her proper house; she was a Ravenclaw by appearance; shiny raven black hair and pretty brown eyes, silky skin, and rosy cheeks, as well as an athletic figure. She was popular among guys and girls, as well as a fair Quidditch player; she made most girls look low in comparison. Harry's head suddenly shot him one question: how had he done anything wrong by having a crush on Cho? She was a very likeable person. But had that been the problem? Had Harry not been good enough? She had had many different crushes, Roger Davies was one.

Harry sighed. It was all too complicated. He didn't want to think about it anymore. What was over was over. What seemed depressing now, he reminded himself hopefully, would seem hilarious in just a couple of years. He had friends, lots of friends. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Luna…not to mention Fred and George always there to spread a joke and make him forget about his worries. He had the best friends in the world.

"Hello, Harry?" Neville pinched him in the shoulder. Hard.

"What?" Harry yelped in pain. He sensed the Slytherins glancing at him nastily; all with the same ominous looks on their faces.

"You were kind of…dozing out…." Neville said, grabbing his Historball and his books. "Time to go."

Harry awoke from his daydreaming, and got his books as well. As students filed out from the Great Hall, the marvelous gold plates and flasks miraculously disappeared from their places on the tables. The tablecloths resumed their cleanliness, and the benches folded up neatly by themselves and set aside for the morning.

Transfiguration and Herbology went by very fast that morning. Harry hardly paid attention in both classes and risked getting 10 points off his team in both classes because he had failed to "properly renovate an opossum into a black-eyed newt" and "deliberate the functions and principles of ladyblossoms and Crespneilian Sunstroodles" (the most wriggling plants Harry had ever worked with).

He had almost convinced himself of going to Madam Pomfrey and making up an excuse to skip class, when he felt someone touch him on the shoulder gently. He whirled around, alarmed by the contact.

"Harry, relax!" Hermione said calmly after he had jumped in on her for disrupting his thoughts.

"Sorry, I'm just not in the mood, okay?"

Hermione looked at him sternly as they walked to Potions together. "Don't think I haven't noticed you in the first two classes. You haven't been paying attention at all, have you?"

"You're a smart one."

"Stop the sarcasm, Harry. I'm concerned with you. Your face is white, and you flinch whenever someone touches or talks t—" Hermione rushed to catch up with his brisk strides. She grabbed his arm.

Harry flinched, and turned around to face her.

"Why can't you ever listen the first time? I'M OKAY! I'M FINE! Can't you give me some time alone? Give me a break, Hermione!"

He turned back around –painfully— because he was afraid of the look that he had formed on Hermione's face. He could turn back now, and tell her he didn't mean those things—as a friend.

But he didn't, and hastened his pace in order to evade humiliation.

Several Slytherin students could be heard making droning sounds in the back of the room while Professor Snape properly demonstrated how to asphyxiate a deadly thrittlefrog for a mending potion from viper toxins. It wasn't fair; the Slytherins were allowed to relax while Snape made the Gryffindors take notes to the point where his wrist throbbed excruciatingly. Harry could hardly wait for the end of class, where he and Ron could go out for a break and see Hagrid before dinner.

Hermione's seat was peculiarly empty. Harry tried to remember if she had been present in Charms or not, but failed as the only thing he had done in the previous class was trying to stay awake. He shook his head, and looked back on his parchment. While lost in thought he had accidentally dripped too much ink onto his notes, he could hardly read them. Snape took off points for illegible writing; he'd have to copy it over. In frustration, Harry collapsed his bottle of ink on the floor, causing Snape to stop his demonstration and everyone to stare at him.

"Well, well, Potter." Snape dropped his dead thrittlefrog, and started to walk slowly up the aisle, his dark robes trailing behind him. Harry knew very well he had not come to assist him in cleaning up the ink, but only to be assertive.

"Well, well, well." Snape continued with a surly face. Harry stood up quickly, feeling everyone in the room's eye on him; he detected Malfoy's smirk in the corner. "I'm s-sorry, Prof—" He started.

"Don't stand there, Potter!" Snape spat brutally. "Fool! Clean up the mess at once! I've already taken 15 points off Gryffindor for your redundant intrusion, which was kind enough. Stand there like a twit, Potter, and I'll make it 50."

"That's not fair…" Harry heard Ron mutter under his breath. "Harry didn't mean it." Snape heard, and whirled around, his icy eyes on him now. "Meddling, Weasley? I'd advise you to shut your mouth! Or shall I make it detention for the both of you tonight."

Ron stared down at his throttled frog, which was starting to generate puddles of frog blood on his working desk.

Snape gave Harry another seething look, and left his side. "The consistency of viper fangs is very shallow. They can only produce as much as—"

"That was horrible." Ron said to him after Potions class. Harry had spent much of his time cleaning up the messy ink, and missed the rest of his lengthy notes (Snape took off 20 points for not having them done) that left him extra Potions homework since he had to copy the entire thing over.

In the end of class, Snape had noticed Hermione's absence. "Granger not here, today?"

"We don't know where she is, Profes—" Lavender butted in. Snape clearly ignored her. "That was a decent amount of notes that she missed. I want her to have the notes as well by tomorrow, or it's 5 points off."

Harry didn't want to talk about it. It was turning out to be the longest day of the week…first he had been banned from future Hogsmeade trips, secondly, his horrible affair with Cho, and that did not even include his week of detentions already with Umbridge. He made a firm conviction that his life was just about to kill before he reached the 6th year.

"Hey, there's Hermione!" Ron pointed towards the end of the corridor. "What's she there for? She completely missed two classes in a row! That's a prime record!"

"Uh…I have to go." Harry didn't want to face Hermione, even though he desperately wanted to apologize to what he said to her. Even as irritable as she seemed sometimes, he truly didn't like seeing her hurt. He was to blame.

"Oh, come _on,_" Ron dragged him anyway. "There ought to be a good explanation for why she got to miss Snape's lecture when we didn't."

"Ron, I said I—" He stopped.

Hermione saw them, trying urgently to hide her face. "O-oh, hi Ron, Harry."

"Hey, Herm." Ron said. Her face was blotchy. "Whoa! What happened?"

"N-nothing! I just, erm, accidentally…" Hermione said quickly. Harry noticed she was trying hard to not to look at them. She sighed. "Oh, it was this bloody spell, happened by mistake, I just got back from Madam Pomfrey." She waved her hand absently. "No big deal."

Finally she looked up, after taking a deep breath. "So, what did a miss? Charms, oh, Professor Flickwick started the counter hexes, didn't he? Oh! I can't believe— I had been reading _The Theorem of Remedial Counter Curses and Spells For Intermediate Pupils _all last night, I can't believe I—"

"It's okay, Hermione!" Ron said. "Professor Flickwick just reviewed the palmsis spells with us, it was boring…"

"G-good." Hermione calmed down. Suddenly Harry saw one of her eyes start to pucker tremendously, turning as arid as a prune. She seemed to feel it too. "Oh no," she cried in despair. "Not _again. _I've got to see Madam Pom_—"_

Ron made a face after Hermione had rushed off with her books. "What's up with her, eh? She's acting _bizarre. _If you ask me, it's probably something she ate. I mean, she's weird for sure, but she's never _this _hectic._"_

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A/N: If you have gotten this far...why not review and tell me what you think? Reviewing will help me get to know my readers, as well as read others' writings as well. I welcome comments and accept constructive criticism...please...if possible...no profanity of any kind, as it would be disturbing or offending. Thank you. 


	3. Hermione, what's gotten into you?

"**Hermione, what's gotten into you?"**

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Characters, settings, ect. all belong to J.K. Rowling.**

Harry's time was cut short and he couldn't go to Hagrid's hut, much to his disappointment. He hadn't seen him much around since he had been drinking in The Three Broomsticks. He and Ron scuttled in a crowd of 5th years out of the Great Hall on their way to the Gryffindor common room.

"Let's hope Hermione back from the hospital wing." Ron said as their went through the portrait hole. "If she's not back by now…" They arrived in the cozy common room. Dean Thomas and Neville were playing wizard chess. Ginny was in a chair watching them and petting a particularly smug Crookshanks. Seamus was at the table too, still looking at the Historball in awe, experimenting with it using his wand, but not quite getting the words right. Hermione was nowhere in sight.

"You see Hermione any where?" Ron asked Ginny.

"No, I haven't." Ginny stroked Crookshanks' ears, which made him purr rather affectionately. "But I'll go upstairs to check the girls' dorm to see if she there, if you'd like. C'mon, Crookshanks." She scooped up the large cat, and left to the stairs.

"You didn't happen to do anything to rack Hermione's brain today, did you?" Ron joked.

"Ron—" Harry wondered if it was necessary to tell him about what happened that morning with his turmoil. "You see, this morning I erm—kind of upset her."

"You really did?" Ron's eyes bulged. "What'd you do to her? Insult her reading strategies or something?"

Harry realized Ron had not taken the matter seriously in the first place, so he decided not to explain. His best friend had already tread off to watch the chess match, leaving him along by the roaring fire to sort his thoughts. That is, if he had any. He was exhausted, his muscles ached from just clambering so many flights of moving stairs, but he remembered he had to recopy his Potions notes. He groaned loudly, wondering if the day could possibly get any worse.

"Blimey, Hermione! Where've you been the whole half of the day?" Ron exclaimed an hour later as everyone turned to see a weary looking Hermione clambering through the portrait hole. "We've been looking every corner for you! Harry checked the library before dinner, for Merlin's sake. And then Ginny said you weren't in the dorms…you really were in the hospital wing that whole time?"

Hermione, who looked as if she had no strength to argue back to Ron, plopped herself into a fireside chair, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson. Harry, who was hardly halfway done with his mending spell annotations, tried very hard not to look up at her, though he had a feeling she was looking at him. He continued to scribble furiously.

"Oh!" Harry heard Hermione clamp her hands over her mouth and exclaim faintly. "Great…I left my books at the hospital wing, I'll have to go all the way to the other side…" Then —as if things could not possibly get any more perturbing— she suddenly burst into tears. It was the first time Harry ever remembered hearing Hermione cry so dishearteningly despite the past. She had buried her face in her hands and was sobbing quite loudly.

"There, there, Hermione." Ginny patted her on the back. Harry felt a pang of guilt in his chest as she did this –he knew he was the one who was supposed to be comforting her. "I'll go get your books, you shouldn't be getting up." Then Ginny turned to face Harry sternly. He thought she was going to scold him, but instead she said, "Could you keep an eye on things while I make a quick trip to the hospital wing? It will only be a while." Then she put Crookshanks down on the floor gently and left with a toss of her shiny red hair.

Hermione didn't seem to be paying much attention at all…she was whimpering at the moment. Without much of a choice now, Harry got up, cautiously, and standing by her side unnoticed, wondered whether it would be appropriate to pat her on the back soothingly. He never really did that before…it was usually the other way around…Hermione taking care to bring down his worries.

"I-it's okay—" He heard himself saying in a nervous voice. "Ginny said she'd go get your books."

Hermione stopped crying, and lifted her head to gaze at him after he spoke to her. Harry was uncomfortable; her face was now red and streaked with tears. She quickly wiped her face. "Oh, Harry, I-I'm sorry." She burst into tears again, mumbling the words "Sorry…I'm sorry" over and over again. Harry felt his cheeks burn and didn't know what to say to make her stop crying.

"Finally, you're here." He said in a nerve-racking mood. Ginny came up to them, and put Hermione's heavy bag next to her. "Harry." She said in a low, serious, voice. "There's something I need to say to you. It's about Hermione."

"S-shouldn't we talk about it somewhere else then?" Harry asked tensely.

"No, it's fine here. I'll explain." She added to answer his muddled eyes. She glanced at Ron and the other boys carefully but then turned her eyes directly towards him and spoke slowly. "Madam Pomfrey, erm, she told me everything. Something's wrong."

She continued. "It seems Hermione by mistake conjured a spell on herself, but it somehow backfired, and she rushed to the hospital wing to get help. It was a big mess, but they fixed it up. Then Hermione's eyes started appearing oddly, didn't they? The second time she went back, Madam Pomfrey sent her back a good deal before dinner. Only Hermione didn't show up for the meal at all." Ginny's words gave Harry chills.

"You're probably thinking the same thing. Where was Hermione all that time?" Ginny bit her lip anxiously. "Madam Pomfrey wouldn't know, of course, but she told me she had given Hermione a dose of something before sending her out. I think it was supposed to prevent her eyes from reacting again. The medication kind of have some strong side-affects along with it, but she didn't think it would affect Hermione so strongly…."

It was late. Hours had passed by since Ginny and the others had gone up to bed, leaving Harry and Hermione still downstairs together. Harry gazed down at her, who had fallen asleep a while ago after crying. He was sitting in large armchair with her next to him, her head leaning against him. He didn't care. Instead, he thought back at what Ginny had told him before.

_"She's been pretty much unconscious for several hours." _Ginny had said._ "Lost her senses. She probably got lost coming up here to the Gryffindor common room. Anyway, Madam Pomfrey says to be careful, that the dose might make her pretty emotional for a while, but that she doesn't really realize some of the things she's saying. In other words…"_

_"I know."_

_"She was in Moaning Myrtle's stall." _

_"What?"_ He sputtered.

_"Moaning Myrtle's stall. I saw her on my way to the hospital wing. She usually never comes out when it's late. She asked me if I was the Gryffindor girl who was nearly killed in my 1st year. Then she told me that Hermione had been crying in her stall a good deal of the afternoon. She just wouldn't tell me why." Ginny said the last part in annoyance. "That ghost of a girl…I never liked her…" _

With that she scooped up Crookshanks, patted Hermione a few more times, and said goodnight, that she couldn't even feel her legs.

The fire that roared in the common room looked fresh, like it would last through the night, which was extending forever. He glanced Hermione's wrist. Her watch said it was two in the morning.

He sighed, and groaned from the pain in his back as he shifted his body in the seat to set Hermione down comfortably, tossing a red blanket over her. She slept soundly; her eyes looked relaxed, no longer red from tears.

What I am going to do about you, Hermione? He thought, punching his fist on the table. He couldn't fall asleep, and the other girls would scream at him if he were to carry her up to the girls' dorms. Should he just stay by her side tonight, and make sure nothing happened? It was a good time to also finish his homework as well as Hermione's. She needed to have her notes finished, or else it meant more point deductions. He sighed for the fourth straight time, got up, draped his black robe over his shoulders.

He went to retrieve for a quill and some fresh parchment when he eyed the Historball that had been left on the table after the boys finished playing chess. Although he did not know why he was bothering, he felt it was his responsibility why he hurt Hermione by yelling at her.

He drew the Historball, and rested it in Hermione's sleeping palm while pointing his own wand at one of the golden joints. "_Forgify_!" He whispered forcefully.

Again, something started to swirl in the glass ball, and the words HERMIONE GRANGER appeared at the base. Harry took a deep breath and hissed, "Where was I after Herbology?"

It was as if a pair of invisible hands had reached into the ball and started to assemble a picture. Harry stared into the ball. It was Hermione all right; she had just come out of Greenhouse number 4 along with the other Gryffindors, and was reminding some girl what the homework was.

Harry felt a sharp pang in his chest as he watched over the scene where he and Hermione were going up the wide stairs and he was telling her to leave him alone. Was it right to go on? Somehow his mind never answered him.

What happened next? Harry watched as he himself had trudged off grudgingly out of the scene leaving Hermione standing there. Without breaking in tears like he predicted, Hermione had flown off down the stairs and away to some hall that he remembered as the one they once took years ago when they had gone to Sir Nearly Headless Nick's death-day party. It was the one leading to the girls' bathroom, the one that held the surreptitious opening to the hidden chamber in their 2nd year.

Hermione had slipped into the girls' room, and it was like he remembered it. He knew where she was turning next, to Moaning Myrtle's stall. He could not hear any words, but she had bustled through the hall, intruding in on the baffled ghost. He was just about to witness her next act when the ball suddenly went blank with a green light. Startled, Harry had not noticed Hermione draw her hand away in her sleep.

Harry attempted to try again, but decided not to. Maybe it wasn't his place to watch what had happened. He put the Historball back on the table and quickly finished Snape's notes within the next hour, trying his best to recall the previous Potions' lesson.

"Harry…" He heard Hermione groan. "I'm…sorry…about today…"

What? Was the tonic that Madam Pomfrey had given her still in affect? But this time Hermione was only talking in her sleep. It was a dream.

Harry leaned over Hermione carefully to get his wand and winced when she clutched his arm tightly. "Hermione…" He started, but stopped himself. It was only a dream. But was he in it? He watched her every move anxiously.

"I was wrong…" Hermione muttered, and her lips formed a tight smile. "Don't do this to me…don't tell Dumbledore!" Tell Dumbledore what? Her eyelashes fluttered. "I won't bring it up again…it was all my f-fault…all my fault Harry…Harry you know how much you mean to me…Ron too…" She tightened her grip on him. "Harry!" She screamed. "No! No! Don't—"

He didn't have much choice. He shook her gently. "Hermione, wake _up! _It's just a dream, I'm right here, I'm right—"

Hermione's eyes flew open. Was she still under influence from Madam Pomfrey's tonic? Harry had no way of knowing. Ginny hadn't told him when Hermione would regain her senses again.

"You're okay, right?" Harry asked. Hermione was still holding onto his arm, her brown eyes staring at him blankly. _She's got to be normal._ Harry thought. Yet suddenly the most outlandish thing happened.

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A/N: If you have gotten this far...why not review and tell me what you think? Reviewing will help me get to know my readers, as well as read others' writings as well. I welcome comments and accept constructive criticism...please...if possible...no profanity of any kind, as it would be disturbing or offending. Thank you. 


	4. Reverie and Remorse

**Reverie and Remorse**

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_Author's Note: Don't you hate it when I leave cliffhangers? I don't like them very much as well, so I know how you feel! I was tingling after I finished the 3rd chapter. What's going to happen next? Read to find out yourself. Things are almost going to a boiling point here. By the way…I kind of zipped through this one…I need to revise badly probably._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Characters, settings, ect. all belong to J.K. Rowling.**

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The way she clutched him was distressing, as well as making Harry uneasy. Again, he waited for Hermione to make some kind of answer. But she did not blink, and stared up at him in wonder.

Harry pushed her hands away gently, his head swarming with frustration. When her arms fell at her sides, she stood up, her body staggering.

"Dumbledore's dead, Harry! What did you do?" Hermione's eyes were suddenly bloodshot. She screamed. "Harry! What did you do? You killed him, you—you—" Her red eyes streamed with tears. She put a hand up to his face, her pupils darting away at him, as if she was studying his facial features. Her face was pale, showing dreaded shock and anxiety.

_Hermione! It's a dream, it's dream, it's a…._

She put both of her hands on his face, her thumbs brushing against his temples, moving down smoothly to his burning cheeks, one of her fingers gently touched the corner of his mouth.

"Snap out of it, this isn't ri—" Harry restrained her hands. "Listen to me Hermione, this is a dream! A dream!" His heart was pounding. This wasn't the Hermione he knew, the white-faced, bloodshot eyes….

"What's wrong with you?" He demanded. "You've got to go to the hospital wing, what bloody kind of mixture did Madam Pomfrey feed you?"

Hermione's tears rolled down her cheeks like raging streams. "You…" she said. "Harry…I knew you…you wouldn't kill Dumbledore." Her hands freed themselves wildly out of his grasp and tugged at his robes. "HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME! When Ron, I, when I-I I love you Harry!" Her voice carried through the common room. "I-I…you wretch, Harry! You— you – _how could you? _YOU—"

In maddening despair, Harry turned around as he saw a dark shape rushing through the portrait hole. Hermione's incensed eyes started to close. Her pale eyelids hovered faintly as Harry watched as her hands groped in the air. "Hermione!" He cried. She staggered, bleakly as Harry with drab desperately caught her shoulder.

"What – in the world?" McGonagall slammed the portrait behind her walking in with rapid steps. "Miss Granger!" Her thin lips grew tight when she saw their site. "What _was _that screaming? Harry, I want to know what is g—"

"Professor," Harry protested, stumbling to regain Hermione's steadiness. "She fainted— she was unconscious the whole night." He didn't mention to her about how she had accused him of killing Dumbledore. "Please, Professor, I've got to get her to Madam Pomfrey's!"

Professor McGonagall stared at the two of them, but nodded. "You'll do just that, Potter. I'll accompany you." She adjusted her spectacles. "But h-how…?"

Harry bit his lip. A trembling Hermione was leaning against him. "I don't know—" he said. "She was at Madam Pomfrey's twice, erm—" he paused "yesterday. It was something Madam Pomfrey gave her, some tonic—"

McGonagall blinked, as if trying to deem this was actually a delusion.

"Very well, Potter." She said. "I don't know how I may be able to assist you, if you don't mind transporting Miss Granger to the hospital wing." She glanced at Hermione.

"Isn't there an easier way?" Harry mumbled.

Blinking again, Professor McGonagall gave a heavy sigh, and retrieved her wand. "Your desire, Potter." She stated sharply. "_Fitherfy!" _Harry, who had been holding Hermione up, stumbled after McGonagall's charm. Hermione was no more or less as heavy as a feather.

"I'll meet you in the hospital wing." She opened the portrait door as Harry clambered through wearily, Hermione on his back.

This night will never end.

Madam Pomfrey pulled open the two large gleaming wood doors at Harry's insist outside the hospital ward. Her reaction was similar to that of Professor McGonagall, disapproving and sensitive. "What happened to her now?" She retorted with a small sigh.

"Do something—please—" He carried Hermione in and put her down at the nearest cot. Madam Pomfrey peeled away at Hermione's eyelids, inspecting them.

"Dear, I gave her too much, did I?" She muttered to herself.

"It's that tonic!" Harry found himself saying. "She's been acting barmy all night!" It was all he could do not to unleash himself.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a reproachful look. "It wasn't the tonic's fault, I've given it to disinfect an ugly hex to so many students I hardly thought of the side-effects to be anything but usual." She felt for Hermione's pulse. "Weak."

Harry stood there, and stared as Madam Pomfrey opened Hermione's mouth to a spoonful of red liquid. "This will loosen her mind, or whatever's been driving her to insanity."

Harry found himself gripping Hermione's hand.

"Down in the mouth, this girl." He heard Madam Pomfrey say. She walked over to Hermione's bedside, putting a wet rag over her head. "She must have been heavy hearted to put a Subdue Spell on herself."

"A what?"

Madam Pomfrey dabbed the cloth around Hermione's color-drained cheeks. "Subdue Spell. You wouldn't be learning that until 6th year. It drives your emotions away for a desired period of time. I've never known anyone to use that spell, it's _dangerous_, for Merlin's sake. I don't know what she was thinking, coming in, her eyes so _colorless_." She shivered.

"Hermione would never put that kind of a spell on herself!" Harry said angrily.

Madam Pomfrey adjusted the cuff of her sleeve stringently. "Is that so? May I remind you that I was the one who was here when she came dashing in during classes, and it was a Subdue Spell that I saw."

Harry closed his mouth bitterly.

"The only thing worse than conjuring a Subdue Spell on yourself, is if you say it without restraining your voice." She continued strictly. "If you're not careful, you won't just subdue yourself for a few hours, I can tell you. That's why it takes a good deal of studying to do it— as far as _why_ she did it I'm not so sure."

Hermione's not dumb; she'd learn something like that far faster than anyone else. Harry thought to himself.

"I merely thought my curative tonic could yield her from the damage she put on herself. I suppose _you _wouldn't know how it feels to not feel and still have any sense at the same time!" She shook her head. "Same mistake _this _one made, backfiring that hex on herself. If it was any worse, she'd be in this state forever, only breaking out from her own delusions."

"Will she be okay?" Harry asked.

A smile appeared at a tiny corner of her mouth. "I believe she'll be fine, she needs rest. _Rest. _No disrupting her." She paused. "You ought to be going back to your dormitory. She won't be up tomorrow, for sure, you can visit her in the morning."

Harry took the cloth Madam Pomfrey had been using to dampen her forehead, and began to gentle smooth out the rest of her features, her still eyes, and her desolate cheeks. He closed his eyes slowly. _I'll never hurt you again, Hermione. I never meant to make you cry. _He fought to sustain his own nerves.

The shadows of the curtains around the other patients' beds wilted in the night. He heard voices far away. Professor McGonagall— Madam Pomfrey – whispering in tight voices. He still held Hermione's grasp. It was the only strength he could give her.

Drowsily, he doze off in midst of the upheaval around him, cutting him off of what had been a most dreadful night.

His eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Light hit his eye. Remembering the appalling events of the preceding night, he sat up in alarm, stunned by his surroundings.

A dazzling beam of light was streaking upon his bed sheets. He raised an arm to shield his eyes from the sun's glare.

"There he is!" He heard a familiar voice. Turning his head deftly he saw Ron and Neville scurrying his way. Both their faces were of disbelief and ease.

"Harry! What _happened?_" Ron stared at him, his face struck with perplexity. He was panting. "McGonagall told us you were here, but she _refused _to give us details. She said she couldn't say anything except you were here in the hospital wing because she thought it we _ought to mind our own business." _Ron mimicked McGonagall's drawl with a smirk. "But I knew you'd tell us anyway. What happened?" He repeated. "And w-what? Hermione's here _too_? I knew she was missing, but that was because she came up here to see _you_!"

"Long story." Harry looked to his left. Hermione was in a state, her hair tumbling in all directions beneath her head. She was still asleep.

"_Boys_, who gave you permission to—?" Madam Pomfrey came sweeping in, her face in anguish. She saw Harry. "Oh, you're awake." She set a tray in front of him. "You've slept a good deal through the morning. You can eat here before leaving. No need to miss the rest of your classes on a perfectly good day."

"The rest—?" Harry started.

Ron clapped him on the back. "Don't you know? Breakfast is over. We've got Charms next," He crinkled his eyes. "Or is it Divination?"

Harry gave Hermione one last uneasy glance, ate a spoonful of eggs and porridge, before rushing out of bed, and tossing his robe over him. "Let's go." He said, shaking his head. He was determined to free his mind from all disturbing thoughts.

"By the way—" Ron asked as they clambered down a long flight of stairs. "You never told me what happened to Hermione. Seriously, what happened last night?" He asked.

Harry glanced at him furtively. "Tell you during class."

Charms passed, but Professor Flickwick had given them a new counter hex – if only Hermione were there to help them – that was just nearly as frustrating as the reading of hazy indications made from smoking sagebrush. All day his mind wrestled with his concentration, and Harry could not concentrate on anything but Hermione. It was as if the scene from last night had stuck thick to his inner skull. The hard demanding of classes prevented him from finding time to tell Ron about it. He decided to finally say the truth once they went back to the hospital wing to visit Hermione before lunch.

Ron's stomach grumbled audibly as they scaled up the steps to Madam Pomfrey's wing. They had cut their time short from lunch to visit the tower.

"Harry, wait a minute…I can't feel my insides." He moaned when they were a short distance away from the top landing.

They arrived at the hospital wing, finding a most displeased Madam Pomfrey opening the door. "It's you two," she nodded. "Come on in, I suppose."

"Is she—?" Harry didn't finish.

Hermione was in a blue bed robe, sipping a hot drink when they arrived by her bed. Harry didn't know what to say to make the silent gap between them more bearable.

"So, erm, you feeling better?"

To his relief, Hermione was truly herself this time. Her usual color had flowed back to her cheeks. She smiled, weakly. "Yes. Thanks for coming, I, er, how are you?" She asked, with a smile.

"I'm okay, better." He was. He could hardly remember the last time he slept so many hours.

"So, will someone tell me what's going on?" Ron snapped impatiently. Hermione lifted an eyebrow at Harry. They both stared at him.

"Hermione, you don't remember?" Harry sputtered. "You don't remember what happened last night?"

Hermione's eyes bulged. "You brought me here, Harry. Madam Pomfrey said I passed out."

"You don't remember—anything?" Harry said, his tone indicating his frustration.

"I remember being at breakfast yesterday, and then walking to Transfiguration, and Herbology—yes, of course I remember that, we were learning about Crespneilian Sunstroodles, weren't we? Let's see…then I— oh—" Hermione gasped. She stared at Harry. "Then…I went to…the girls' room…and Moaning…Myrtle…Dumbledore…Harry—" She said, furrowing her eyes. "I remember so many things, but I can't _recall them."_

"Splendid." Ron rolled his eyes. "Now Harry will have to tell you too."

Harry's throat was dry, how could he describe last night? It was awful, horrid. The way Hermione's eyes had rolled so crazily, it was as if…he dared to make a comparison…Voldemort had possessed her himself, sending images through her head.

Hermione was bustling with the bag of books they had brought for her. Ron stared with incredulity.

"Honesty, Hermione! You're mad! Doing homework when you've got _the whole day off,"_

Hermione had whipped a quill and fresh parchment out along with her Arithmancy book. She gave Ron a critical look. "Rubbish, Ron. There's always time for work. You ought to know that."

When she had put her head back down to write, Ron sneaked Harry a disgusted glance. "Forget Hermione, tell me about what happened!" He urged. Harry glanced at Madam Pomfrey agitatedly. She was in the corner of the ward searching through a cabinet of odd-looking bottles. Quickly turning his attention away, he whispered to Ron, "Erm…yea…c'mon let's go to an empty bed."

They both flopped onto an empty cot a few spaces away. Harry drew the curtain around them. Ron watched his every move. "Yeah? Go on!"

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably, and told him about Hermione's fitful phase in the common room in the night. Ron didn't look all too surprised; instead he was rather skeptical. "You? Killing Dumbledore? Come on, Harry! Even I and every other person here knows he isn't dead at all! He was eating a bag of _Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans _for Merlin's sake!"

"Shh…" Harry said. "I _know. _It was a dream. But Madam Pomfrey said that Hermione put a Subdue Spell on herself, and it did something to her…"

"Well, I don't suppose you know what a Subdue Spell is!"

"I- dunno…"

"Hermione woul—" Ron got up but Harry grabbed him. "NO, Ron, I don't want to bring this up to her." He didn't explain much to his friend's confusion. Things were bad enough already, with Hermione in the hospital wing after that night's bedlam. He didn't want to bring up the way he had mistreated her, and all that rubbish he wished he could forget.

"Forget it," Ron said unworriedly. "Hermione' ll be out soon, as soon as Madam Pomfrey's sure that she won't go insane—" His voice was growing loud, and he hushed. "_Go insane. _I mean, it isn't so bad, long as You-Know-Who isn't involved with it. By the way—" Ron gave a revolted face. "Still taking Occlumency, are you?"

"Yeah," Harry said dully. "I don't get the big catch about it. The classes aren't working, and Snape doesn't look like he wants to help _at'all_."

"Boys!" Madam Pomfrey snapped. Ron drew back the curtain and they quickly retrieved their things. "You ought to be leaving, your visiting time has long been over, and classes are about to start."

"We'll be back." Harry told Hermione, trying to sound normal.

She gestured her hand with a light wave, as if flicking a fly. "I'm alright, Harry. As long as I can catch up to classes by tomorrow. My head hasn't hurt for a while now."

Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well as an unpleasant Potions class with Snape taking points off for Ron leaning over to ask Harry about his ("Ugh, Harry, I'm not sure my mending potion should be this booger color, d'you?") passed after what seemed like eternity. After dinner, Ron rushed off for last minute Quidditch practice ("Ugh, I seriously need some earwax if I'm gonna prepare for Angelina's loud-mouth"), and Harry flew down the hall, nearly bumping right into Umbridge.

"What's a matter with you?" She spat, looking into him up and down with gruesome eyes.

"Uh, nothing, erm, Professor—" Harry brushed at his dusty pants.

She narrowed her eyes, looking doubtful. "Surely a student who is rushing through the school halls without dinner must have a reason."

Harry's mouth was dry. He avoided saying what was really in his mind – he needed to go to the classroom to prepare for the next day's D.A. meeting. However—

"Erm, uh, I was just heading towards the hospital wing, uh- to deliver Hermione's uh, Divination charts."

Her eyes were small and piggly, and Harry felt like she was staring deep into him. "Hospital wing's that way, _Mr. Potter_." A devilish smile had appeared on her lips, catching him on the spot. She was right; he was far from where he wanted to be.

"I, er, left her books in the common room, Professor."

Professor Umbridge opened her portly mouth, her stubby chin wobbling in suspicion. However, no words came out. Instead, she niftily scrawled something onto her clipboard. "Students—running—in—hall—for—no—reason—" Her hard stares burned his insides and chilled his spine. She stalked past him.

Turning around, Harry saw she was out of sight, around the next corridor looking for more rash remarks to add to her list. Shaking his head with a grin on his face, he raced on quickly, smiling at the lie he had just told, not the first either to the naive Professor Umbridge.

Hermione didn't take Divination.

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A/N: If you have gotten this far...why not review and tell me what you think? Reviewing will help me get to know my readers, as well as read others' writings as well. I welcome comments and accept constructive criticism...please...if possible...no profanity of any kind, as it would be disturbing or offending. Thank you. 


	5. Guilty Feelings

**Guilty Feelings**

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_Author's Note: Sorry if you guys were expecting some good kissing, and hugging, and blah, no, I'm trying best as I can to imitate JK's way of things. (And if I'm not doing a good job with that, you don't have to thrash me on it, either). Oh, and another thing: I couldn't really think of that good a title for this chapter, so it doesn't sum it up that well._

_Did you know?_ In my original plot (way back when) I was going to have Harry and Hermione kiss by mistake in the previous chapter, number 4. The title of chapter 4 was, originally, supposed to be "It's Not Supposed To Be This Way". In order to make my story longer and more interesting, the whole plot of my story altered as I came up with new ideas. However, I may be using that same title in the near future.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Characters, settings, ect. all belong to J.K. Rowling.**

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He froze, seeing her there by the door. A tickly feeling throbbed throughout his body. His stomach was getting good at doing double somersaults.

Cho caught his presence at once. Her face was bright red. Burning, in fact. The instant she had seen Harry coming her way she had quickly placed a pale hand over her right cheek. Harry wondered why she wasn't rushing away, completely avoiding him from what happened last time.

But Cho didn't budge; she was merely just _there_, standing by herself in the empty hallway, silence filling between their distances. She was less than ten feet away, he could walk up to her and – but Harry was thinking the absurd.

What in the world would she be doing there anyway, standing just outside the Room of Requirement? Harry fidgeted, and watched as Cho stood there, her hand pressing onto her burning cheek. If he walked away now— Harry told himself, it would set off a sheepish impression that he thoroughly didn't like her— yet he didn't know himself how he was feeling. Mad? Frustrated? Guilty? A sum of those, for sure.

_Come on, just walk up to her, say hi, do...something! _His mind pleaded him. Gradually he subsided his thoughts, trudging through what seemed miles of distance up to her. His hand was shoved awkwardly in his robes pocket, his other hand trying desperately to smooth his hair – though he hardly thought to care.

"Er, hi." Harry's voice was unfortunately raspy. "So, er, how are things?" He asked, trying to be gentle.

Cho looked up straight away, her soft brown eyes growing big. What did she see in him? Relief? Repent? Disgust? He couldn't tell.

"Harry…." She wasn't smiling, but it was afar from a frown. "I thought you'd be here, I-I mean, I know there isn't any D.A. meeting today." Her voice was low. "B-but…" Her tone faltered, and Harry realized she was on a verge of tears. He didn't think he could stand watching her cry. She was glued to the spot. Harry could easily put a hand on her shoulder, but his hand was apparently frozen in tension by his side. Cho was trying very hard not to look at him, either, for she simply stared at the design on the floor.

"I n-needed to see you, Harry. H-Harry I—" Harry tried not to stare because it was obviously rude, but drips of mascara were rolling down her cheeks, and her lips trembled. Her face was flushed, and it couldn't keep him from not thinking that Cho was especially attractive when her eyes were dotted with tears.

It was all too similar to their last D.A. meeting. Harry felt a strange sensation, even numbness.

"Er—what's wrong?"

Cho looked at him with wet eyes, sniffing. "Oh—nothing," then she started to sob, her head in her hands. "Oh—Harry…" She trembled on in a muffled voice. "It's m-my D-D-Dad," she wept, trying hard to wipe her eyes off her sleeve. "Dumbledore just spoke to me—h-he_ passed away_!" With that last phrase her tears couldn't be stopped, and Harry couldn't help but feel an enormous pang of empathy for her. Her touched her shoulder with all the effort his arm could afford.

"Cho…I'm really…sorry—about your dad. Er, d'you want to—" He was about to ask if she wanted to go to the Great Hall and perhaps catch a bite to eat. Instead he was cut off when Cho has unexpectedly put her arms against him, and was crying into his shoulder.

"Er, Cho…." Harry's head was spinning. He didn't want to consider prying her off, it would be rude. But—what he had no idea what he was supposed to do if she was leaning on him, weeping tears onto his robe? He tried to pat her gently, telling her it would be okay.

Cho had been crying into his shoulder for what seemed like a ceaseless period of time. Finally, sniffing, her face red and puffy –not to mention very pretty—, she pulled away from him, dabbing at her eyes.

"I'm sorry about that," She said quietly, her voice still trembling.

"Er, that's okay." Harry didn't know what to say next. "Erm, are you okay—I mean, do you want to—" His tongue was tied as he searched for the right words. Cho was looking up at him, her cheeks glowing, her big brown eyes looking hopeful.

"—D'you want to go to the Great Hall to get something to eat?" He asked ineptly.

"Okay, I guess." Harry saw her face fall. He said something wrong. She started to turn away.

His heart was beating like a drum. His mind raced with thoughts.

"WAIT—Cho—WAIT!"

Cho spun around.

"Do you—" Harry asked eagerly. "—want to err, walk with me sometime tomorrow night? Erm, like around the school grounds? If you want." He added quickly.

Cho smiled weakly. "I'd love to."

His breath slowed easily. "Yea, okay, so tomorrow night. I'll meet you right in this hall—after dinner?"

Cho nodded, brushing a piece of dark hair away from her face. The way she smiled encouragingly at him and said good night made Harry feel like he was floating evenly on air. It was late—he had no clue how long he had been there with Cho weeping on him. His shoulder was still warm. He shook himself, and decided to hurry back to the common room before Filch, Snape or Umbridge – they were all equally impious as far as he was concerned — caught him dawdling in an empty corridor.

Fidgeting his way up to the Fat Lady's portrait, he caught sight of Seamus and Dean Thomas writhing over some small object.

"Psst! Harry—" Dean gave him a furtive glance. "Don't tell Neville this, but, err—we're borrowing his Historball for just a little bit, okay?" He was drawing his wand from his pocket. "Seamus lost my transfiguration homework sometime b'fore lunch, the louse—"

"HEY! You told me to copy off you!" Seamus lunged at the Historball.

Turning briskly, Harry charged into the common room. The silence was so unusual that it scared Harry. He wondered where everyone was. Then he remembered—they were still coming from the Great Hall. He was probably the only one here, with perhaps the exception of Crookshanks, who was lying by the hearth attempting to clean his tail.

He dropped into a chair, and stared into the fire that spread warmth through his limbs, trying not to think about the thousands of little thoughts stirring in him. He thought it strictly bizarre why his head hadn't exploded into puddles from all the pain he had ever undergone. It wasn't just the fact that he witnessed the uprising of Voldemort once again, but countless little things. The school had also given him—unsurprisingly, for that part— loads of homework. That, however, did not even include the further assessments for the upcoming O.W.L.s.

While his stomach grumbled a bit, he tried to get somewhat done with his Astronomy constellation chart. However, his mind could not concentrate on the exact locations of the Polaris, the Big Dipper, or Astravis the Knight. In a way, he was quite fond of the silence that filled the space around him.

Feeling guilty, this meant his best friends too. Nobody was there to interrupt his extraordinary bubble of peace— above all, to witness the fact that his cheeks were flushed to the most brilliant shade of rose.

"_Honestly, _Ginny!" Harry shook his head moments later, he had dozed off, and his quill had absently dripped a large quantity of ink over his parchment. He muttered a quick charm that cleaned up the mess, and turned around from his seat to see Ron trudging into the common room with rage.

"For Merlin's sake, _Ginny!" _Ron said scowling, his temper on a rise. "Just because you're _her friend—"_

His robes were covered in filth, and a splotch of something Harry did not want to know. "_I mean it—_STOP LAUGHING!"

Ginny tried stifling her giggles with her hand. "I'm sorry, _Ron._" She controlled herself, smiling. "Oh, come on, it wasn't so bad!"

"Huh!" Ron stormed into the seat opposite Harry, his eyes glaring at the wall. "Not _bad, _is it? _NOT BAD?"_

"Er," Harry cleared his throat, and Ron and Ginny immediately turned to look at him. Their faces were much in contrast; Ginny's one was of utter amusement, Ron's a look of outrage. "What's going on?" He was glad for the interruption, and set his homework aside.

Ron glowered into the fire, while Ginny opened her mouth to explain. "It was during Quidditch practice, Luna was watching us practice—" Ron made a noise in his throat. "— and then she asked if she could try out Ron's broom after we finished, and well," Ginny giggled. "she couldn't get control of it, and she was sweeping down, and Ron was just standing there, and _you know—"_

"You mean—?"

"She crashed me into a mud puddle! She was on top of me, the little _brute_!" Ron exploded, his face the color of cherry pie.

Harry grinned. "Great going."

"It's _not _funny. She was heavy." Ron protested.

Ginny looked wistful. "Oh, it's not a big deal, she can apologize tomorrow." She stifled a yawn. "I'm exhausted, all those tactics Angelina made us do over and over. I'm going up. Good night."

They mumbled good byes to her, and Ron gave an exasperated sigh, but then glanced at the homework Harry was clutching in his hand.

"Oh, you started that, did you? Great, I'll get mine. Never really understood all that rubbish with the stars and stuff." Ron flipped opened the pale astronomy leaflet. However, without text, Harry and Ron wouldn't be able to accomplish anything, much less a whole chart on the subject.

"Okay, lessee, it's under section four in _Magic and Rituals. Mansions of the Moon refer to the influence of the Moon as it travels across the sky viewed against the background of constellations..._yeah, yeah. _Each of these 28 mansions was believed to emanate an influence that could be harnessed by magic in ancient eras…. _Any idea what this is talking about?"

Harry's head was throbbing. "No. But, wait—here it says—it's the answer to the column under Al Tarf. It's the seventh mansion of the moon, corresponding to the constellation Leo. It's influence is causing illness, and it's sprit is Scheliel," He shook his head. "Whatever _that _is."

"Seventh…mansion—causes—illness." Ron muttered, scribbling it onto his notes. "Got that down, mate. What's next? Shall we do _Al Sa'd Al Ahbiyah_ or_ Al Sa'd Al Dhabih_? No, wait—_ Al Farch Al Mukdim _sounds loads better—"

Ron looked up, blinking in confusion. He caught Harry's eye and they burst into laughter.

"Well, I'd say, these potatoes are really good." Dean could be heard saying at his end of the Gryffindor table. "Creamy too, my mom can't cook really, although I do like the way she makes her pudding."

Hermione folded her napkin primly over her lap. "For your information, Dean, I wouldn't be quite so secure to say that _at least a dozen _house-elves may have sweat their ears and burned their hands cooking the meal on your plate!" She snapped.

Dean Thomas raised an eyebrow unsteadily. "Whatever you say,"

Hermione jabbed her own fork into her potato, and sighed. "Oh, I just can't eat it. Those poor things."

Ron sat down in the empty space next to Dean. "Aww, c'mon Hermione, give yourself a break and _eat _for once. It won't hurt you, and I'm pretty sure that Dobby and the rest of them won't su—"

"Dobby and the rest of them are being put in a cramped kitchen all day, doing the work of slaves! It just proves there's no elfish welfare in the magical world!" Hermione snapped at him.

"Well—" Ron looked thoughtful as he chewed a mouthful of egg and potato. He swallowed, and answered to the indignant look on her face, nervously. "I suppose, that's _their _job, isn't it? I mean, and Dumbledore insisted on paying them—"

"Which is no less than what they deserve!" Hermione insisted. "But then again, _you _wouldn't have anything to say about them because you're always going there for the food!" She pushed her plate away, took a sip of pumpkin juice, and drew her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ out in front of her.

Harry entered the Great Hall wearily. He spotted Ron and Hermione along with the rest at the Gryffindor table. He sat down to the left of Ron. "'Morning," He mumbled.

"Mornin, mate." Ron said, grinning.

"Back already?" Harry asked Hermione in a middle of a large yawn.

Hermione turned her head to the side of her _Daily Prophet _so that she could see him

"Yes, I'm fine now. Madam Pomfrey let me out this morning, and good riddance, too. I can't stand being there for long—I'm sure you can't possibly either, Harry— people always coming in and out of there sick or messed up of some sort. Just yesterday, a second year rushed in with a huge wart the size of a dungbomb sticking out in his backside. Don't know how it got _there_."

Ron grinned in a side-glance at Harry. "Naww, Hermione, I think you just don't like it because it's a haven for missing classes."

Hermione looked infuriated. Her head ducked back behind her paper.

Ron changed the subject, ignoring Hermione. "Not looking too good, are you, mate? I decided not to do my charms homework after we finished that chart and everything. Professor Flickwick won't notice anyway, it's not like I ever _really _get better when I practice."

"Just like you to say that." Hermione added behind her paper.

"Give me a break, I was covered in filth last night from Quidditch practice—you saw it, didn't you Harry? It was that blasted girl, Luna!"

"What'd she do?" Hermione questioned.

"Well, I was nice enough to have her try my broom for a while after practice, but that was before I knew she can't fly at all!" He told her the rest of the story, and Hermione nearly choked at the last part, spewing pumpkin juice over her paper.

"And it ain't like she's as light as a fairy!" Ron added gruffly.

"I heard that." A misty voice said behind him and Harry.

"Hello Luna." Hermione said tonelessly.

Luna apparently ignored her. "You were saying, Ron? Something about me?"

Ron gulped, but tried to stay cool. "Well, it's the truth, you know!"

Harry could see the dreamy look drain from her eyes, which had turned hard.

"Heavy, am I? Compared to you, I'm not that much like an elephant." Luna put in crudely, and strode away coolly.

Ron's ears were now evidently redder than his hair. He didn't say anything.

"I think you hurt her feelings." Ginny said.

"Feelings? You think she has feelings?" Ron burst. "Didn't you hear her insult me? She said I was an elephant—"

Hermione quickly coughed loudly. Ron glared at her.

"Er, I think she's right." Harry said quietly, avoiding Ron's enraged look. "Maybe you said too much."

"Oh, so now it's my fault, isn't it?" Ron roared. "I suppose I'm to blame, just because she crashed down with my broom last night?"

"Just apologize, will you?" Hermione snapped.

"I'm not apologizing for anything, not until she does! She's the one who criticized me!" With that, the whole conversation seemed to come to an end.

After a moment, Ginny stared outside the glass panes overhead. "Clear sky, today. If it's like this tomorrow, it'll be an advantage when we go against Hufflepuff."

"Hufflepuff?" said Neville. "I thought you went against them already."

"Well we did." Ginny admitted. "But that was ages ago. Slytherin ended up losing to them so we have to go against them again. We'll win, though. I heard their best chaser got knocked out badly from one of his classes—I think it was Potions, someone spilled a bungled Anesthetic solution on him, so he's half conscious. His substitute's a kid who can't see right."

"Our luck." Angelina said next to her, but she wasn't smiling. "I don't know what I'm going to do about Jack Sloper—"

"SERIOUSLY!" Ron said loudly, sputtering bacon onto nearly everybody around him. Hermione shot him a disapproving look before wiping his spit off her own face and handing Harry a napkin too.

"S-sorry," Ron grew read, and quickly gulped down what he was chewing. "Sloper's insane! Can't play Quidditch if his own life depended on it, no, if his mum and dad's life— can't hit a bludger right either! 'Alf the time he spends apologizing out on the field cause for some reason he hits us instead, and the other team always gets the point!" He said angrily.

Angelina finished her flask of juice, and it refilled with more. "Well, that's true enough, but the point I was trying to make is that Jack can't play today either because he was taken off the team on admonition by Professor Umbridge. It's that stupid Decree number thirty-seven or something, says the High Inquisitor has full right to put any Hogwarts student lacking proficiency in more than two subjects—in other words, he's failing—off the team until he makes an improvement."

Ron hit his fists on the table and Harry was able to duck his head in time. "WHAT? Well, that's no excuse for the Slytherins, is it? They've got Crabbe and Goyle! They're failing, haven't heard that they're off the team! She just want to make the Gryffindor lot miserable!"

"He's right." Harry said.

Angelina sighed. "That's the problem. I'm going to talk to Professor McGonagall about this. The game's tomorrow, and if we haven't got enough players, we can't play in the game, which immediately gives Hufflepuff the win."

"That's horrible." Ginny muttered.

"I'm going to ask her now, right before the morning class starts. And," Angelina huffed. "If that doesn't work, I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to open up to anyone who can at least ride a broomstick." Looking flustered, but more overwhelmed, she scurried away towards the exit of the Great Hall.

"This is hopeless." Hermione said, folding her newspaper into halves, and finishing off the last of her toast before getting up.

Harry gulped down a portion of his breakfast, before pushing away his plate. It vanished along with Hermione's. "Hermione, can I have a word?"

She looked distracted, and was muttering, "Gosh, I have a whole day's work to make up, I do hope I'm not behind in Transfi— what did you say, Harry? Sorry."

Ron interrupted them. "No—I left my books in my dormitory!"

"I'll take your bag," Harry said quickly, much to Ron's relief.

"Thanks, mate, I'll meet you guys in class." He rushed away.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's absentmindedness.

"Er, can I have a word?" Harry repeated.

"Of course. You don't need to ask. Wait—we can walk together, we've got a double of History of Magic next—with the Slytherins, that is, and we can talk on the way."

"Right." Harry stammered. "Er, er—" It was hard to start with the fact that what he wanted to say was stuck in his throat. "Listen, I know you're okay and everything, but why did you backfire a spell on yourself?"

Hermione blinked at him. "Harry, that's just it, I-I don't know. I guess, well," She looked away. "I was a little down the other day, and I well, wanted to cover myself up."

"With what, a Subdue Spell?"

"Harry," Hermione sighed. "Let's not talk about this."

"O-okay." Harry said, awkwardly, seeing the crestfallen look on her face.

"Of course, you know what happened, right?" Hermione shot him a nervous glance as they clambered up a flight of stairs. "I mean, I know I was in a state, and I was unconscious. Wasn't making much sense was I? It was all my fault." Harry grew quiet. He didn't know how to answer her. He felt rather guilty.

"It doesn't matter now, it happened two days ago."

Hermione put on a weak smile. "Besides, I've seen worse, right? The bubotuber pus last year?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, that was weird."

Even Hermione's concentration in class wavered from Professor Binns' droning about medieval giant rituals and paranormal phobias. Harry, usually sitting in the back seat with Ron, had his head in his arms, and he was aware of his own eyelids drooping. He was tired…and suddenly…he was cut off from the presence around him.

Harry never remembered being so cold. He felt his veins freeze, and his spine turn into ice. He was surrounded by pitch black, and by squinting his eyes he could barely make out a distant green light miles away. Without a choice, he started to amble towards the so of luminosity. His breath was coming out in damp, white puffs, and hollow noises were springing up from the dark walls around him.

After a long time, he reached the glow, and realized it was coming from behind a scraggly wood door. The intense light was shooting out from behind him. Drawing in a deep, chilly, breath, Harry turned the knob. Blinding light shot at him, a thousand glowing—

"_Harry!_ Get up! Professor, he's unconscious!" He heard Hermione saying. He lurched up, clutching his chest, panting heavily.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked. She put a hand on him, and quickly drew it away as if he were dangerous. "Harry, you're _freezing cold!"_

"Yeah, I'm aware of that," Harry muttered as he struggled to get up. He was aware that all the Gryffindors and Slytherins were watching him. Professor Binns was looking quite perturbed.

"What happened?" he asked.

Harry was about to open his mouth to speak, but Malfoy answered for him.

"He had another dreadful nightmare, Professor." He sneered, and clutched his heart. " 'Help me! Help me! You-Know-Who's out to get me again!'" Crabbe, Goyle, and the rest of the Slytherins laughed with him.

Harry clenched his jaw stiffly, and glared at him. Hermione and Ron were by his side, looking fear-stricken.

"What's really going on, um, Mr. Potter?" Professor Binns questioned, looking agitated that there was a disruption in his long lesson.

"He had a delusion. May I escort to the Hospital Wing, Professor?" Hermione asked before Harry could speak again. He couldn't understand why no one would let him talk. He still wasn't able to get up.

"V-very well, then, Miss er, er—"

"Granger, professor."

"Right, now. You may take him away. And if he'll be gone for long, you might as well take his books too." Professor Binns put on a strict face. "It's over, students! Get back to your seats!"

Ron slumped away, looking envious of them two. Even Malfoy, who was trying hard to hide it, had meant to have Harry stay the rest of the class as so he could ridicule him. Instead, he was going to miss the most uninteresting class in school.

"C'mon Harry," Hermione took his bag as he slowly got up. "Let's go," She pushed him gently, and they left the classroom. Once they were out in the hall, Harry turned to face her.

"I don't need to go the Hospital Wing! I'm fine, why couldn't you just let me explain for myself? I don't need to see Madam Pomfrey. M-my scar wasn't really hurting this time!"

"But V-Voldemort—"

"He wasn't in my dream!" Harry exclaimed. "No one was, he wasn't—"

"Then why…?" Hermione looked delirious. "Why were you on the floor, and you were clutching your…"

"I don't know why either, but it happens all the time, doesn't it? All I know is Voldemort wasn't in it this time! I don't need to go anywhere!"

"Yes you do." Hermione said quietly. "Dumbledore…"

"Dumbledore isn't here anymore, and I obviously can't send him a letter because the owl post is being watched!"

"I know that!" Hermione cut in impatiently. "But I was meaning to say that Dumbledore would have wanted you to keep up your Occlumency. You should see Snape—"

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione!" Harry never remembered being so uptight with her. He was beginning to sound like Ron. "Are you on my side or not? _See Snape, _that's loads worse…Occlumency isn't helping at all. You think Snape will really want to teach me? Maybe he wants me to have a connection with Voldemort! He was a Death Eater too, wasn't he? Probably wants me dead!" He stopped, panting angrily and glaring at her.

Hermione turned away, and Harry caught a glimpse of her tears. However he didn't feel bad this time. Hermione would never understand how it felt to be possessed by Voldemort. Ron too. All they could do was suggest him go to Snape, take Occlumency, see Dumbledore—it didn't work that way. It was more complicated.

"I still think you should see Madam Pomfrey," Hermione sniffed, wiping her eyes quickly and turning around to face him. "You got excused from class, after all."

"No, _you _got me excused,"

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "Harry, what did I ever do to you?" There was a long silence in which Harry, for the first time, suddenly started to soften towards her. She bit her lip. "I guess I'll go back to class. I-I—" But Harry grabbed her arm.

"I didn't really mean all of that," The words came out quietly, before he could stop himself from admitting what was in his heart, not daring to look at her. He quickly dropped his grasp. He noticed Hermione touch her arm where he had just seized her.

"T-That's okay. I know you think I c-can't…" Her voice wobbled. "..that I can't possibly imagine what it's like to see through the eyes of Voldemort, and be there in your dreams. Sometimes, I wish I could…honestly Harry. I know it's hard for you. I'm sorry too. Sometimes I speak before I think. I didn't mean to make you mad." This time she sped back towards the History of Magic classroom, and Harry didn't stop her.

He hated the way his tempers got hold of him, and the way Hermione always put the blame on herself. It was different from when she quarreled with Ron. With them, they were always stubborn, and would never admit their wrongs, even stopped talking to eachother for days sometimes. But whenever he started a fight with her, she always seemed to apologize to him whenever she noticed his temper rising. That's why he never remembered having too many arguments with her. It was always different.

Shaking his head, which was still prickling if not severing in pain, he headed towards the nearest broom closet. By no means did he feel like visiting the hospital wing every time a little thing happened. He was going to hide in the closet till the next class started. By no means, either, did he wish to stay in class hearing Professor Binns droning on to no end.

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A/N: If you have gotten this far...why not review and tell me what you think? Reviewing will help me get to know my readers, as well as read others' writings as well. I welcome comments and accept constructive criticism...please...if possible...no profanity of any kind, as it would be disturbing or offending. Thank you. 


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